My knees. And how the only way they do not fail me is by providing fodder…

Do your ears hang low, do they wobble to and fro?

It was a warm, sunny evening.

Peacefully sitting in the yard, that obnoxious song blared from the ice cream truck. It rambled up the street, with kids running out their doors, clutching dollar bills, screaming, “STOP!” Decades ago, I was doing the same thing; running, screaming “STOP,” clutching a quarter in my hand. That was back when my knees worked and a quarter bought more than 15 minutes in a parking meter.

I recently had the privilege to attend the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop (EBWW). It was a dream come true. Erma was my favorite – my inspiration as a young writer. I was beyond giddy to attend.

Earlier this year, I kicked off the New Year by attending a local writers’ workshop where we discussed the importance of writing goals and pushing ourselves out of our comfort zones. It was there I took a short survey that revealed my “word of the year,” which was brave.

“Erma-titis.” I’ve got it. Bad.

It’s a total self-diagnosis. A few hundred people get it around this time of April, about every two years.

“I really can’t tell that you are excited…” – My husband

From the moment I started reading newspapers in the morning – so, basically, many moons ago – I’d always read Erma Bombeck’s column. When I was a local columnist, and a reader wrote that I reminded her of “a young Erma Bombeck,” my heart soared and my ego inflated! Someone compared me to Erma! Whoa!

Shear terror – an ironic play on words. I submitted this piece to the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop pre-conference writing contest. Alas, it was not, a-hem, cut out to be a winner. I did however, want to share it, as many other contestants have shared their “losing” submissions. Sure, I was a little disappointed to have been trimmed. Maybe I missed winning by a hair! Who knows? But, after last week’s very somber post, I thought I’d lighten the mood and post one of the funniest stories I have about being a military wife.

ZZZvumm. The sound still haunts me.

I was a young, newly-wed Army wife. We had just recently moved to our new duty assignment. Money was tight, and we looked for ways to save our pennies.

“Clothes make a man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.” – Mark Twain

Well, Mr. Twain, I beg to differ. Little did you know that we’d have naked dating shows, naked real estate shows and naked survival shows. Oh, and naked restaurants. I’m thinking naked people do have a wee bit of influence these days.

Oo la la! France is on my bucket list of travels. Food, wine, fashion and sites – oui! I am looking forward to seeing more of the country than I saw recently, which was the inside of an airport on a layover.

Naked and afraid to eat…

But, one place I will definitely avoid is the new, all-nude restaurant. (Don’t believe me? Google it. I can’t be responsible for the spam bots, okay? Okay!) Hey, if I plan to drop a boatload of money on clothes in Paris, I want to show them off. Right? I mean, I’m all for themed-restaurants, but who comes up with the idea that people want to eat when they are nude? I’m thinking they aren’t going to be famous for their wings, ya know?

My mind goes places. Places I don’t want it to go… like to pre-teen immaturity when I hear “naked.”

Merry Christmas Eve Eve – the longest day of the year – especially if you are a parent!

It’s December 23, and if you are a parent, today is – without a doubt – the longest day of the year. I remember my brood of four bouncing off the walls on “Christmas Eve Eve.” Every. Single. Year.

I’d try my best to keep them occupied by decorating cookies or have them cleaning their rooms… yes, they had to make room for the anticipated new gifts. Whatever works! Or, if the weather was good, I’d send them outside to wear themselves out playing in the snow.